


A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall

by mordredslullabies



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4994353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordredslullabies/pseuds/mordredslullabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronan's screwed up inside. He's facing the fact that his life doesn't really mean anything anymore. And then there's Kavinsky, who understands what he's going through. And everything with him is like a hurricane, and it's terrible and wonderful. It's not what Ronan wants, but maybe it's what he needs. </p><p>Title taken from a Bob Dylan Song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall

**Author's Note:**

> There was nothing in the novels to suggest Ronan was suicidal or engaged in self harm. And I don't believe he is, but my Ronan is a little darker and different than Maggie Stiefvater's. He's also in a relationship with Kavinsky. There's some implied one sided angst regarding Ronan/Adam.
> 
> Also I have some very minor spoilers from the second and third novel. I just thought I might mention it in case someone is still reading either one of those. I don't want to spoil the books for you!

Ronan wishes he had a better story to tell. Some romantic story about his first kiss, his first time. Some normal, beautiful romance or that existed in the story books. The kind of relationship actual people had.

Instead, he had Kavinsky. He had Molotov cocktails and vodka. Purple pills and syringes in the crooks of elbows. He had red eyes and the taste of tobacco on his tongue. He had Kavinsky staring at his spit-shined lips saying, _Open up, Princess_. He had bruises and scars. Blood in his mouth. Shark knives splitting his insides apart. Dreamed fuelled with hate and madness, desperate passion no man was ever supposed to feel. Not in the backseat of his father’s BMW. Not in Kavinsky’s stained bed. Not shoved up against the wall of a bathroom stall, 50 feet from his friends. Not in the back alley or the drug den. Not in his dreams in Cabeswater. Ronan shouldn’t have to tell this story with fire and tattoos and fast cars and murder. It’s not what he wanted.

But Ronan was not a boy who got what he wanted. He could have had Adam. Bright kid, wrong side of the tracks, but a heart of gold. He smirked when Ronan called him an asshole. It’s how he showed his love. A well placed _fuck you, Lynch_ and Ronan’s smugness at playing the Murder Squash Song for hours on end could be what he had. He could have had innocent fluttering kisses at St. Agnes. He could have had hands roaming deliciously and delicately over their hardened bodies at Monmouth. He could have had hot chocolate kisses and holding hand while cruising around town. Or lying in the grass in Cabeswater, talking to each other about stupid things, like Adam’s ambitions and Ronan’s lack thereof. He could have had love and acceptance, warmth and gentleness, someone who actually cared about him.

But Ronan was too screwed up. And besides, it didn’t matter. Adam would never want someone like Ronan back. He was still in love with Blue, and Ronan was just the rich boy with the shaved head and scary tattoo and the pet raven and a dead father and nothing to look forward to. At least he knew Kavinsky understood him. Wasn’t ashamed to be gay, or to show it. Wasn’t scared of pain, or hurt, to push him down on the bed and do filthy things to him. He brought adventure and danger. He entered Ronan’s dreams and made the world stop spinning just for a moment. He broke and twisted and ruined when Ronan needed to be broken and twisted and ruined. He always gave Ronan what he needed.

But oh god it’s not enough. Ronan’s naked now, sheets wrapped around him, Kavinsky’s warm body against his chest, twitching in his sleep as he dreams about monsters. Ronan’s mind is blurry from the whisky and his lungs burn from the cigarettes. His eyes are sore and bruised and his skin hurts as he picks at the scars on his wrists. Ronan swallows down the emotions threatening to burst out of his being. Because Ronan Doesn’t Do Emotion. Ronan Doesn’t Cry. Ronan doesn’t do anything that Ronan doesn’t want to do.

Except he does. And right now Ronan is lost and dead inside and wondering why his story even matters in the grand scheme of things. He wondered what happens after they find Glendower.

Ronan didn’t have a future. That’s why he could never be with Adam. After all is said and done at Aglionby, the gang was going to go their separate ways. Blue was going to hole herself back up at 300 Fox Way with her psychic family. Gansey was going to go home to his family, or perhaps his next big quest without them. Adam was going to get the hell out of Henrietta and do something important with his life. And Ronan would be back at The Barns, hanging out with Ghost Boy Noah, sitting in Sunday mass with Declan’s disapproving eye and a younger brother he created from his dreams. Ronan was nothing beyond this town. And neither was Kavinsky. And they both were spiralling down in the knowledge that they would never change or amount to anything. Misery sure does love its company.

Ronan puts the cigarette out on his forearm and closes his eyes to the pain and smell of human flesh. He falls asleep and wakes up tomorrow just to do it all over again. Ronan wishes he had a better story to tell, but that isn’t what he gets. He gets this one, this pathetic existence, and wonders why he even bothers to tell his story at all.

And he knows he is nothing but ashes and heartache. And nothing will ever be okay again.


End file.
